I got a call this morning at four thirty, there is a missing nine year old boy in my neighborhood. I immediately checked on my sleeping ten year old boy – just to confirm that there wasn’t a rogue kidnapper targeting tween boys, but he was okay. I’ve been mildly freaking out ever since, thinking about that poor mom, not knowing where her baby is.
Finally fell back asleep, only to have Marc come in and lecture me because I inadvertently cut his hand by throwing away broken glass.
Fell back asleep again, just in time for Lucky to start seizing. Pee, poop and foaming at the mouth, everywhere, Marc stressing out because he had to leave, and I ended up violently throwing up because it all just too much for poor mama.
Dog bathed, floor bleached and mopped, husband officially out the door (after heroically bathing the dog and thank God I actually had done laundry last night so he had a clean shirt to replace the one that got soaked by Lucky). The poor dog is dozing on the couch now (lucky bastard), and I’m quietly sipping my second cup of coffee, and wondering if it’s a bad sign that I want to brew another pot before seven o’clock.
I miss Julie like you wouldn’t believe. She survived her first sleepover last night and while most of me is happy and proud of my little girl, I miss her too. So much.
It’s not even six thirty, and I feel like it’s noontime. Not an auspicious start for summer vacation.